Monday, August 01, 2016

One of the things I miss most about not living in Indiana (besides the people I love) is the sky. If you never lived in a flat place where you could see forever you won't know what I mean. There is sky so big you can watch a storm roll toward you for an hour, or more. You can see clouds that are like living, breathing monuments to some fluffy white deity rolling and changing across the horizon. Clouds climb, they billow, they stretch into shapes and into themselves.

Where I live is dense with trees. I took that photo above and you can see the horizon cluttered with trees. It was a beautiful day, storms rolling in and the thunderheads were just beginning their dance. Grey clouds came sliding in beside white billowing beauties heralding the pounding storm that was just behind them.

My son and husband tease me about the clouds endlessly, about my love of them. I once said "We don't have clouds like this in Georgia" when we were in Indiana which they both thought was hysterical. After I got done flipping them both the bird I went back to my cloud worshiping ways in silence.

Maybe what I meant was, we can't SEE clouds like this in Georgia. Clouds are clouds are clouds. But I no longer have a wallflower's seat at their dance. My view is obscured by the southern belles known as Georgia Pine - their hoop skirts flinging needles and cones and blocking my view.

I'd like a day where I can sit on the edge of an Indiana field and watch the clouds. I'd be glad to snap some beans if you have them, or shell some peas. It's been a while, but I'm a pro.